


chamomile

by green_piggy



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Slice of Life, Tea, as ALWAYS when it comes to me, kind of a character study??, look man it's 4k of them drinking tea do you want it or not, mild spoilers - please see a/n for full details, sure is an actual tag huh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 21:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20453987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/green_piggy/pseuds/green_piggy
Summary: After yet another night of nightmares, Dimitri bumps into Claude outside his room, who insists he knows how to help Dimitri sleep.





	chamomile

**Author's Note:**

> **PLEASE READ**
> 
> the 'graphic depictions of violence' tag has been used to be on the safe side for a single paragraph. if you want to avoid it, skip the long paragraph after the paragraph starting with _“Why wouldn't you say you're a good person?”_ and start again at the paragraph that starts with _“I-I just wouldn't,”_ \- i'm not sure if it warrants the tag, but better safe than sorry! it's about three quarters in~
> 
> if you want to stay utterly spoiler-free, don't read this if you haven't reached the timeskip in the blue lions route. there are allusions to dimitri's backstory/motivations, as well as stuff you only learn about him from late game supports. back out now!!
> 
> RIGHT THEN NOW ALL OF THAT'S DONE WITH
> 
> dimitri and claude absolutely have the potential to be close friends in UHHHHH _literally any other universe thanks intsys_ \- i think in general it's a shame we didn't get more interactions between the three leaders before everything went to shit!
> 
> also i just UHHHHHH REALLY LOVE THEM (and everyone in this game) so i shat this out.
> 
> sorry for the long ass author's note! hope you enjoy! <3
> 
> EXTRA: for anyone who read this first time around - i reposted and deleted the old fic because the published date was over a week ago for some reason lmao. computers are Hard man - sorry to anyone who'd left kudos and comments prior!! rest assured i treasure them all dearly~

Dimitri never had any problems _ falling _ asleep. His issues lied in _ remaining _asleep.

For the fifth time in as many nights, he found himself jolted awake, heart pounding, pillow and sheets drenched in sweat. He forced his fingers to unclench the sheets, didn’t allow himself to shut his eyes. As soon as that darkness came, so too did the screams, his family, his friends, his _ people, _all howling and pleading and sobbing amongst the flames—

_ “Damn it.” _His head thudded against his pillow. He let out a shaky breath, then took a cautious glance outside. At least he hadn’t woken anyone up by screaming. Not this time.

He’d gotten a lot better at muffling those.

He wasn’t going to sleep, though, not like this, and only one thing calmed him during times like these. Sighing to himself, Dimitri pushed the sheet off and heaved himself out of bed. He ignored, adamantly, the flickers of people out of the corner of his eye. He forced his ears to block out all sound, to silence any whispers. Not here. Not now.

Still shaking, ever-so-slightly, he got changed into training clothes - a simple shirt with loose bottoms. Pulling on a pair of leather shoes, the quietest footwear he had, he waited until he was no longer trembling before leaving his room.

The hallways were, at this hour, darker and more silent than the outside world, but he had worse demons to wrestle with than the lonely night. The guards didn’t patrol amongst the hallways, and he rarely got caught by them. His destination was only just past Professor Byleth’s personal quarters, and the guards rarely checked on that area. What thief would go for the training grounds, and what student would be up at such an absurd hour to do exercise?

Dimitri scoffed quietly. He wasn’t like most students, though, was he?

However, no sooner had he thought that before he heard a pair of footsteps ascend the steps. He froze, trapped halfway between his door and the stairs, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to return to his room without being caught. His heart thudded in his chest, mind whirling with thoughts of _ how _ he could explain himself; he’d never been a good liar, and if word were to get out that one of the _ house leaders _was wandering about at odd hours...

He was equal parts relieved and confused when Claude came into sight.

Books were threatening to overflow from his arms, but what really caught Dimitri’s attention was the frown on his face; it was difficult to see much in this dim darkness, but Claude’s face was taut with a scowl so severe Dimitri would have thought him a different person altogether.

Claude glanced up, then, and his face immediately brightened, face stretching into a smile as though it was instinct. “Oh, hey!”

“A-ah… please keep your voice down.”

He let out a small chuckle and approached, shifting slightly on his feet as he stood opposite Dimitri. “Hello, Your Princeliness. I’d bow if I could. What’s gotten _ you _up so late?”

“I could ask you the same.”

“Well, my reason is pretty obvious—” Claude heaved up the books in his arms with a grin, being far more dramatic than necessary— “but I’m failing to see yours. Don’t tell me you got the urge to go training at _ this _ hour?” He whistled. “Wish I had _ your _work ethic.”

“I’m not… I couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh?” Claude hummed. “You don’t seem like the kind of person to overthink too much—”

“I - thank you?” Was that a compliment?

“Nightmares, then?”

When Dimitri didn’t answer (though he knew that in itself was answer enough), Claude tilted his head a tiny amount. His voice softened. “Everyone gets them, y’know. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

_ I doubt most people have dreams like I have, _Dimitri wanted to retort, but he knew the late hour made his patience thin. Instead, he just sighed. “I understand that. But it still…”

“Feels childish?”

“I suppose.”

“Hmm.” Claude tutted. His tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth. “Well…” He grinned. “It’s late, but if you let me drop off these books, I might be able to help your nightmares.”

“Oh?”

“Gimme a minute or two,” Claude said. “And wait here, if you would.” The dormitory doors were old, and Dimitri had never been able to open his without it making a dreadful racket, yet Claude's own swung open in silence. “Need to get the teapot and cups - the tea _ itself _would probably help too, huh…”

Despite himself, Dimitri followed as Claude went inside. “Is there any reason why—”

There was a loud _ crack _as his boot landed.

“Watch where you're going!” Claude hissed. There was a sharp anger in his voice, unfamiliar yet more honest than most of his words, right before he slid a hand over his face, sweeping a smile onto it. The books that had been in his arms were now stacked precariously on the edge of his desk. “Anyway!” he chirped. “The tea!”

Dimitri glanced down, a sudden lump in his throat. When he lifted his boot, the cracked, ruined spine of a thick book greeted him.

“A-ah, I…” He looked up. “I'm truly sorry…”

He trailed off at the sight before him; countless books were scattered over the ground, the shelves, the writing desk, across every crook and nanny and spare inch of space. Not even the bed was safe, more paper than sheet. It was as if Claude had sent a shelf or two from the library tumbling and left the contents exactly where they had fallen.

What was even more curious, perhaps, aside from what in the _ goddess's _ name Claude could have been reading, were the lack of personal items. Sure, nested in-between two tall stacks was what appeared to be utensils for potions, and near that, a black container of sorts, but there wasn’t anything _ personal. _Even Felix, a boy who sneered at anything like that, kept his weapons and the odd flower on his desk.

And _ no one _Dimitri knew had so many books. Not even Ingrid or Sylvain. It was - staggering.

“There we go!” Amongst shuffling and the loud thuds of books moving - Dimitri winced, hoping _ dearly _that they wouldn’t wake up Felix - Claude pulled out a tray with a few cups and a teapot on top. “Kind of you to not go poking around in my room after I asked you to wait outside.”

“Ah… I'm sorry.”

_ “And _you broke one of my books!”

“It would have been more difficult to stand on the floor itself!” Dimitri retorted. “Just _ what _are you reading?”

“I'm studying, clearly. Also quite nosy, Highness.”

_ “You're _one to talk.”

Claude shrugged with a cheeky grin.

“...And _ why _is your bed absolutely gigantic?”

“More storage for my books.”

“Books are _ not _meant for—” At Claude's widening grin, Dimitri pinched his nose with a sigh. “You are utterly insufferable.”

Claude winked and shuffled past him, tray in hand, and made his way to Dimitri's door. It was only when Dimitri opened the door to his room that he paused.

“...I don't recall agreeing to do this in _ my _room,” he said witheringly.

“Well, you saw the state of mine. You really wanna spill tea all over my books?” Claude set down the tray on Dimitri's desk, sliding it about as if _ he _ was the one living here. “And the guards may not be that great at actual _ guarding, _but even they're gonna notice a couple of students milling about this late.”

“That… is an excellent point. Apologies.”

“Eh, I'll forgive you.” Claude shrugged, dancing past Dimitri again, teapot in hand. “Back in a minute.”

“Ah… okay?” Dimitri's words were to empty air. Huffing out a quiet sigh, wondering just _ what _he had gotten himself into, Dimitri got to work. Mercedes had been around a few days prior, and he hadn't yet returned the chair she'd brought over. The poor bent needles from their last session were still on his desk, swept away into the corners by the tray.

He pushed the chairs to suitable locations, one at each end of the small writing desk. It was - awkward, to say the least, due to the raised edges, but hopefully there would be adequate space for both of them.

...Just _ how _did he get roped into this, again?

There wouldn’t be a lot of leg room, but Claude would just have to manage. Dimitri set the tray in the middle and took the two cups out, setting one on each end of the desk. He awkwardly sat himself on the chair closest to the window. Suddenly, he remembered his hasty retreat, and launched himself off it to tidy his bed into something resembling decent. Claude had already been in here, though, so he would have seen it already, and he didn’t much care for nobility or appearances, and it _ was _ terribly late, and _ why _ was Dimitri getting so worked up over this? _ Goddess. _

He forced himself to relax, dragging a hand over his hair and collapsing into the same seat as before. Just as he was about to get up to check if Claude was well, his door was pushed open.

“Sorry for the wait, Highness,” came Claude’s cheery voice. In his hand was the teacup, with steam puffing out from its little spout, and a couple of teabags dangling from his fingers. Dimitri didn’t miss his quick glance around the room, eyes sharp and drinking in every detail. He felt bare, exposed, even though all he had were a few letters and boxes. A bedroom could tell you a lot about a person, after all. It was their most private place.

Claude’s other hand held little teaspoons, which he let clatter onto the tray noisily as he flopped into the seat opposite of Dimitri. He didn’t even _ sit _in it properly; he sat with his arm draped over the back, one leg folded over the other towards Dimitri’s seat.

“Could you be any _ louder?” _Dimitri hissed.

“Oh, of course. You want me to?”

_ “No.” _

Humming, Claude leaned over towards Dimitri and dropped one of the bags in his cup. The other plopped into his own. Then, he pulled Dimitri’s cup towards him and poured the boiling hot water into his cup. It was soothing, somewhat, the noise of water slowly filling the cup the only sound in the silence.

“Let it seep for a few minutes,” Claude said. He spun a teaspoon in the cup, letting it tink against the cup before pushing it back towards Dimitri. “Even the smell helps.”

It was earthy and woody, like he was roaming the forests of Faerghus during early spring, right when the squirrels and deer started to come out. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine twigs snapping under his boots, his fingers running through the fine mane of his favourite horse as he rode on her back, the beautiful sunset through bare branches, from a childhood that felt further than a lifetime away. All of that, just from a single smell. “What is it, exactly?”

“Tea.”

Dimitri resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Barely.

“I’m not a fool, Claude. You know what I mean.”

Claude flashed him a grin, one that, as usual, didn’t even wrinkle his eyes or bring any warmth into them. “Yeah, yeah.” Water trickled into his own cup. “It’s chamomile. It helps with… hmm…” He ticked off each phrase finger by finger as he went. “Stress, sleeping problems, migraines, nervousness, muscular tension…” His hand dropped to the teaspoon as he stirred the bag around. “Seems like you could do with some of that.”

_ Why did you have that in your room to begin with, if this is for me? _was the question in Dimitri’s mind, but he knew he would receive no answer for it. For once, though, perhaps that wasn’t a question impossible to answer.

“I see… you believe so?”

“Well, yeah.” Claude rested his elbow on the table, hand tucked under his chin, looking as far from nobility as a noble could get.

“How did you get water?”

“Oh, the teapot already had some in it.”

“Not stale, I should hope.”

Claude shut his eyes, chuckling. “Nah, don't worry. Got it only a few hours ago.”

“How did you heat it up, then?” Dimitri crossed his arms, frowning. “I thought you knew wind magic, correct?”

“Ah, yeah.” Claude raised his eyebrows. “How’d you find _ that _one out, Highness? I don’t recall telling you.”

“I’ve seen you in the training grounds, once or twice. I’m more surprised you visit there at all.”

Shrugging, Claude lifted his arms. “I just don’t enjoy the thrill of battle as much as you, what can I say?”

“I wouldn’t say I _ enjoy _it…”

“Really? Could have fooled me.”

“I don’t like taking unnecessary lives,” Dimitri bit out. “I don’t fight for the ‘thrill of battle’, as you say. I fight to _ survive. _I fight for all the people who can no longer raise their arms, who cannot defend themselves.”

“A champion of the poor and weak, huh?” Claude’s eyes were roaming over the various boxes Dimitri had on his desk. “I do wonder how someone who’s never experienced such conditions can claim to fight for people suffering in them.”

“I don’t need to have suffered in them to _ know _ that there are countless people out there who _ need _ us.” Dedue, the people of Duscur, all of the people in his kingdom who were suffering in the harsh conditions, even during the summer months… it was true, yes, that Dimitri had never known poverty, had never spent a night on the streets with the winter nipping at his heels, but he _ had _known suffering. Goddess, how he had known it.

And even if he hadn’t - even if he’d lived a perfect life free of any sort of pain - how could anyone’s heart _ not _ bleed for those less well-off? How could people see their own kind in pain and disregard them, turn away from them and act as though they didn’t exist? In a way, those people _ needed _people like him, didn’t they? People whose voices could be heard, people who would fight tirelessly for a world of kindness.

(People who would fight for revenge, his mind whispered, for all of the fallen and screaming and burning, for the dead who still clung to him like a second skin. He should be with them. It was only fair, only just, that he execute their will, the desire of his own people. Even if they were dead, they spoke to him enough.)

He shook himself. The look Claude was giving him wasn’t one he could decipher.

“Apologies,” Dimitri said, “I was - lost in thought. Did you say anything?”

“Doesn’t matter - and don't sweat it. Happens to us all.” Slowly, Claude’s gaze slid from Dimitri to his cup. “...I wouldn’t have expected you to be so soft hearted.”

“I wouldn’t… call myself that, necessarily.”

“You really are, though.”

“...Is that a compliment?”

“Take it as you will.” Claude seemed to catch himself, face visibly brightening. “Oh! The tea should be cool enough to drink.” He threw Dimitri a half-hearted looking wink. “Maybe it’ll help with your nightmares.”

“I doubt it will, but… thank you.”

“That bad, huh?” Claude drummed a finger against his cheek. “Maybe it’d help to talk about them? I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”

“Ah… thank you, but…” Even the mere _ thought _of discussing them made bile rise in his throat. The burden of the dead was for his shoulders alone. There was no point shoving that onto another. “...I’d rather not.”

Claude gave a small shrug, finger rimming the top of his steaming cup. “Nightmares affect us all, don't they? I imagine even the strongest person gets them, every now and again. You don’t need to be embarrassed.”

“Well,” Dimitri said, “I'd reckon mine are worse than most.”

He'd meant the words to be comforting - a reminder that if he could pull through his, Claude could easily get through whatever plagued him - but a dark bitterness bit through them.

With the slightest arch of his eyebrows, Claude's smile turned wry, thin. Dimitri had the distinct feeling he'd failed a test he hadn't even known he had been taking.

“Maybe so,” Claude said, voice light, “but just because yours are worse, doesn't mean that other people don't have it bad. It's not a contest, is it?”

“I never… I never said it was.”

“Hmm.” Claude closed his eyes and took a long sip of his tea. “Sure, your nightmares are probably way worse than anything I'd have, but I still—” He cut himself off abruptly, glancing away. His fingers tightened ever-so-slightly around his cup's handle.

He had the look of someone painfully aware they'd said too much, even though he'd, truthfully, said very little at all.

“I apologise,” Dimitri blurted out. He clenched his fingers around one another, knowing the poor tea cup would easily shatter under his intense grip. “For my words causing offense.”

_ “Dimitri,” _came Claude's exasperated voice. “I really don't care.”

“Oh…”

“You think a little comment like that's gonna get under my skin? Really? I've heard way worse.” There was, for a second or two at most, a faraway look in Claude's eyes, one that Dimitri uncomfortably recognised as seeing often in his own eyes. Of memories, and not the pleasant kind.

And then, Claude shut those eyes with a small chuckle, taking a long drink of his tea. Dimitri, unsure of what to do with himself, did the same.

It was only after he'd taken a sip that he paused, cup at his lips. “You didn't… ah, forgive me for sounding rude, but…”

“Hmm?”

“You have a - how do I put this - reputation for poisons?”

Claude snorted, making a cackle of a laugh that couldn't have been fake. “No, no! I'm not _ that _terrible!”

Indignation flushed his cheeks. “I know, I was just - checking!”

“I wouldn't _ poison _you, jeez.” He grinned and threw Dimitri a wink. “Not without prior warning.”

_ “Very _reassuring.” Dimitri took another drink.

“But, Dimitri?”

“Yes?”

Claude’s cup _ tinked _against the desk, next to its saucer. “I know you're a good guy,” he said. “Don't stress about every little thing, 'kay?”

He wanted to say the same - desperately so, but the simple truth was that Dimitri knew more about the gatekeeper Professor Byleth always talked to than about Claude. What little he knew about Claude painted him as a good person, but… he didn't _ know. _For all of Claude's talking and teasing and barbed friendliness, few people knew anything about him at all.

Instead, he gave Claude a smile. “I wouldn't quite say that, but thank you.”

“Why not?”

“I - pardon?”

“Why wouldn't you say you're a good person?” Claude's voice dripped with sickening politeness, a sharp contrast to the detached curiosity in those cold eyes. He looked as though he was analysing an interesting experiment, not asking an acquaintance a deeply personal question.

And how could Dimitri answer that? How could he put words to the darkness looming within him, the figures he caught in the corner of his eye on the bad days, the voices and screams of all of the dead haunting every moment, awake and asleep, the disgusting, nauseating scent of burning flesh and rotting corpses, the urge to claw his fingernails into the eye sockets of everyone responsible for that tragedy, to pull out their eyeballs with his bare hands and peel off their fingernails one by one and make them suffer as much as he had and _ oh _ how he would _ delight _in it—

“I-I just wouldn't,” Dimitri murmured, suddenly wanting to vomit. Shaking fingers grasped his cup and he drank the remaining chamomile in a single gulp. The earthly taste, barely noticeable before, almost suffocated him and burnt his tongue.

Silence stretched. When he dared look up, Claude had his hands laced together under his chin, a spark of interest in his eyes.

_ “Stop that,” _he spat out.

“Stop what?”

“You _ know _ what,” Dimitri snarled. “Staring at me as if I'm a fascinating lab rat. As if I'm not _ human.” _

“Hey, now, don't put words in my mouth.” Claude's face was impossible to read. He was smiling - he was _ always _smiling - but no kindness, no joy, reached those dark eyes.

It rarely did, and Dimitri wondered, not for the first time, what it was that made him smile so much.

Why smile if you weren't happy? If you felt the exact opposite of it? He didn't get it.

“I never said you weren't human,” Claude continued. He shook his head. “Jeez, we're only having tea.” His hand rested on the table. “No need to get so stressed out - if anything, I’d intended the opposite!”

Guilt choked his throat. “...I know. And I do appreciate it - immensely.” Dimitri sighed. “I'm… not pleasant company at such a late hour.”

“Hmm. Don't stress it.” Claude leaned forward. “Your headache any better?”

“What - how did you—”

“Overheard you and Dedue discussing it, once. You get them often?”

“You were being nosy, you mean.”

Claude threw his hands up in mock surrender. “I would _ never!” _He grinned. “Chamomile tea's good for headaches, even if you can't taste it.”

“That's good.” A second, and then Dimitri's head snapped up. “If I can't _ taste _it?”

“What? You can't taste food, right?” Claude asked casually, as if that wasn't something not even Dedue knew.

“I… _ how _did you…”

“You keep eating Flayn’s cooking, but you never compliment her on it.” Claude looked positively _ ravenous. _ “I wasn't sure, but now I am. Thanks!”

“Gah…” Dimitri sighed. It was true that his headache felt a bit better than before, but he could feel it magnifying at Claude peeling off his layers with effortless words. _ “Please _don't tell anyone else.”

“Why not?” Claude's curiosity looked genuine, wide eyes blinking owlishly. But, at this time of night, it was too late to hide the slight bags under his eyes, the strain of pretending for this long. He curled his fingers under his chin. “I’m sure you're not the only person in the world with no taste.”

His scars ached - his back, his chest, his arms. His heart was starting to tingle, tight with nerves, and he knew he'd have to retire to bed soon. “I'd just - rather you didn't. Please.”

“Sure.” Claude hummed. “Can't say I understand, but my lips are sealed.”

“You say _ you _ don't understand?” Dimitri teased. “You, who keeps more secrets than most people in this monastery combined?”

Claude rested a hand over his chest. “Dimitri, you wound me!”

“Truly, my sincere apologies.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re sounding _ so _sincere right now, huh…”

Dimitri smiled, but, as with most of his joys, it was only fleeting. He soon found himself staring at the tiny puddle of pale yellow liquid at the bottom of his cup.

“You feel any better?” Claude asked, breaking him out of his empty thoughts. He placed his own cup, empty, back onto the tray.

Did he feel better..?

He felt _ warmer, _he supposed. Cosy, almost, like he was a child being tucked into bed. His stomach was washed with warmth and his throat felt relieved. Now that he was mulling on it, sleepiness was starting to claw at his eyes, demanding that he go rest.

“I think I do.” He nodded. “Thank you, Claude. I wasn’t expecting this to help as much as it did.”

“Oh, ye of little faith.” Claude gave him a quick smile. “Glad to hear it, though.” He leaned over and snagged Dimitri’s empty cup, leaving it on the tray. “I’ll take this stuff into my room and bring it down in the morning. The head chef will have my head if I’m down at this hour again.”

“‘Again’? You make a habit of this?”

“I try _ not _ to, but alas, studying is just _ so _much fun.” He stood up, tray in hand, grin ever plastered to his face.

“You’re leaving so soon?” Dimitri asked.

“Oh?” Claude paused. “I figured I’d pestered you enough for one night.”

“I appreciate your company more than most,” Dimitri said simply.

Despite everything, that much held true. He felt at ease around Claude in a way he did around few others. And he knew what people said about Claude - that he wasn't to be trusted, that he was an _ outsider, _that he didn't give a single whit about anyone at all - but if Dimitri listened to rumours and naysayers (and the living), he'd be at a very different place in his life.

He was easygoing, and friendly, and good company. Dimitri didn't ask for much, and what he got was more than enough.

Claude - stared at him, genuine surprise in his eyes, before scoffing and glancing away. _ “Right,” _ he muttered, sounding like he didn't believe him at all. “Well. _ Some _of us actually need to sleep, so I’ll be going. We should definitely do this again!”

“Yes, we should. Perhaps not at such a late hour.”

Claude chuckled, waiting at the door. “Fair point.”

Dimitri opened the door for Claude, and, together, they stepped into the hallway.

“You _ really _don’t need to come out. I can manage the five steps to my door, Highness.”

“Please - just Dimitri. No need for such formalities.”

Perhaps it was the late hour, or maybe the exhaustion of a long day was getting to them both, for Claude just glanced away with a strange little smile, one so miniscule that it would have been easily missed. “...Thanks. I'm gonna go try to get some kip. Don't stay up too late, Highness.”

The title stung, just a little, but Dimitri knew that it was intentional. So he didn't let it get to him; instead, he smiled, resting a hand on his chest and bowing slightly. “I will try. Thank you for the tea and company.”

“...You too.”

Claude paused, as if he wanted to say more, an unfamiliar expression on his face that was more honest than anything Dimitri had seen all night. Vulnerable, almost, before he flashed Dimitri a smile that was all thin lips and no teeth, before turning and walking to his own door.

Dimitri watched his retreating back, listening to the clipping of his slight heels against the wooden panels. When his door clicked shut, Dimitri went to his own room. For once, only darkness greeted him; no faces of the fallen, no screaming voices twisted by flames and blood.

He soon fell into the most restful sleep he’d had in - well, months. Years, maybe.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm literally in my third year of computer science at uni you'd think i wouldn't have to look up "insert html link" every time i do fic [ANYWAY MY TWITTER!](https://twitter.com/greenpiggles)
> 
> kudos and comments are always appreciated!! hope you enjoyed reading, have a good day~


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